


Off the Tracks

by doctor__idiot



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2016 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Play, Demon Dean, Dubious Consent, I suppose, M/M, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:37:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: Dean grows tired of Sam’s holier-than-thou attitude.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not very good but I couldn't be bothered to rewrite it. I would also like to apologize for the lack of smut.
> 
> Written for the [SPN Kink Bingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/) prompt "Blood Play".
> 
> Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Unbeta'd.

The crimson was stark against Dean’s skin. He was somewhat tanned now but the inside of his forearm remained pale and the rivulets bubbling from the cut just slightly above his wrist now played a game of connect-the-dots with his freckles.

They missed some on their way down towards his fingers.

The blood would soon drip onto the floor and wouldn’t that be a mess. He had gambled on Sam losing composure somewhat sooner. 

“Dean, please don’t do this.”

His brother’s eyes were wide, flickering from the red on Dean’s arm to the green of Dean’s eyes and back.

The blood was starting to cool and stick to Dean’s skin. He grinned slowly. “Come on, Sammy,” his voice barely above a murmur, whiskey-rough, scraping against the back of his throat, “You know you want to.”

“I don’t. I really don’t.” Sam was pleading with him but his heart wasn’t in it. He stood shaking, five feet from Dean and Dean’s blood and he was slowly falling apart.

Dean cocked his head. “I think you really do. So come on, little brother.”

Sam made a small wounded sound and maybe it was the ‘little brother’ that did it or simple time had made him reach the end of his rope, but he fell to his knees right there on the cold tiled kitchen floor.

Warm hands closed around Dean’s wrist and he was tugged forward, caught a little off guard. He was still holding the knife in his other hand, hadn’t even bothered to clean it, and it was now slowly drip-dripping red onto the tiles.

It clattered to the floor when Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s skin and his lips closed over the cut, teeth biting at the tender skin around it, re-inducing the trickle of blood.

Someone moaned and Dean couldn’t say with certainty that it wasn’t him. He exhaled shakily, burying his free hand in Sam’s hair, tangling his fingers with the brown strands.

Sam made a growling noise, rising from low in his throat and it vibrated against Dean’s skin.

The sting of Sam’s tongue against his wound sent tendrils of pleasure through Dean’s body with every lick and Dean leaned back against the counter, gripping the edge with one hand.

When Dean released his hair, Sam wrenched his head away from him, tilting his head up to look at Dean.

Dean returned the stare. From his brother’s expression, he could tell his own eyes were pitch-black. He couldn’t always control it and he didn’t care one bit right now. It usually made Sam flinch and duck his head. Pretend.

Now, there was no hesitation whatsoever in the hunger in Sam’s eyes. He was a wild thing, a beautiful thing.

The grip he still had on Dean’s wrist grew tighter when he pushed off the floor and unfolded his height in front of Dean, leaning into him, pressing him further against the counter.

Dean’s eyes were irrevocably drawn to the blood smeared around Sam’s mouth. Sam didn’t seem in a hurry to clean it off.

On impulse, Dean leaned forward and attached his own mouth to the dip just below Sam’s. He felt stubble under his lips, tasted copper on his tongue.

It didn’t even faze him that it was his own blood that he was lapping off Sam’s skin.

Sam groaned and dug his nails deep into Dean’s hipbones, shoving him hard against the protruding edge of the wooden countertop.

Dean grinned against Sam’s skin and Sam growled again, grabbing Dean’s chin in a bruising grip, and kissed him hard, Dean’s blood smearing between their mouths.

Dean thought he could get used to this, the raw strength in the body against him, the unfamiliar yet familiar taste of blood and Sam, the only two constants in his life.

Sam’s fingers would leave marks, his teeth split Dean’s bottom lip open. He sucked on it, then bit down again, making Dean gasp with the sudden burst of pain.

Sam lifted him onto the counter, hands under his thighs, and Dean locked Sam in with his knees, leaning into the brutal kiss. He could definitely get used to this.


End file.
